Summary

EDI tries to understand what it means to be in a relationship. Joker has no idea how to answer her questions, let alone his own. But a dangerous side mission--and a nosy crew--might just help them figure it out.

Summary

If Newt has been feeling unsure lately, what better way to reassure him of Hermann’s affections than for Hermann to let him take charge for once? To give Newt his trust? After all, their few encounters have either been equally balanced, or…instigated…by Hermann himself. It can’t hurt to try something a little different.

So instead of moving closer, Hermann lets himself sway sideways when Newt tugs on his jacket. “Do consider,” Hermann says, eyes innocently wide, “that perhaps I’d like to be persuaded.”

Tags

Summary

Automatically, Newt’s eyes track down the fitted blue shirt that stretches across Hermann’s shoulders (after all these years of loose tweed jackets, Newt was beginning to doubt he even had shoulders), to those dark jeans that hug his ass way too closely for comfort. For Newt’s comfort. And likely for anyone else’s comfort, if they happen to be standing behind Hermann.

Summary

This situation, Darcy thinks during a brief lull, is probably not covered in the employee handbook.

Actually, scratch that, if it were in the employee handbook, Darcy would be questioning someone’s sanity. Which, you know, is kind of a normal thing for her to do these days. Everyone in SHIELD is a little nuts. And it’s not like the handbook can get much weirder, not after they added the bit about How to Interact with Aliens Who May or May Not Be Deities or Something.

Still, the SHIELD handbook’s section on diplomacy definitely doesn’t cover How to Deal With Being the Happy Sandwich Filling Between a Hot Lady Assassin and a Hot Amazon-Goddess-Type-Person. If it did, Darcy probably would’ve paid better attention while reading. In private. More than once.

Summary

A group of outcasts come together in Sydney to try to pull off some of the most daring heists in the this side of the equator, and all under the shadow of the Sydney Shatterdome. With a new Marshal in charge, set on cleaning up the territory, and a strange new sect of Kaiju cultists on the rise, this unlikely set of companions must face the odds if they're going to succeed!

Summary

"Pearl’s on a mission. A mission to retrieve her most important thing: her wife, her partner, her beautiful, guiding light, who was stolen from her very dramatically in the middle of the night. Knocked her out after a concert when they were transferring from the car to their apartment and whisked Marina away. The last thing Pearl heard before she was pistol whipped by an octoshot was Marina smashing some poor octoling into the ground and the shattering noise of a pair of hypno goggles as they made contact with the concrete. When Pearl woke, Marina was gone..."

Marina: kidnapped and trying to escape. Pearl: trying to find her. A boombox: the bridge between them.

Summary

“Ah,” was all Aziraphale said at first when Crowley broached the subject while watching the Great British Bake Off. “Eggs?” He seemed to be split between confused and thoughtful but it still kind of made Crowley want to crawl into a dark hole somewhere. “I’m not judging you, darling, simply considering the practicalities,” Aziraphale was quick to reassure. “How it can be done.”

Summary

"Francis you old brute, will you let me get on with my work, please?" Crowley's voice was laced with affection and laughter, but held just a hint of that old familiar and directive tone.

Steel wrapped in rich red velvet, and wielded by a woman who knew exactly what to do with this weapon. It raised the hair on the back of Aziraphale's neck, and he pulled back carefully, heart racing and mouth suddenly dry with desire."

As with all Plenteous Crop fics so far, this can be read as a stand alone fic.

Summary

“Have you ever wondered what it feels like?” Crowley asks while contemplating the dregs at the bottom of his wine glass. He’s aiming for philosophical but fears the faint wheeze at the end of the question might have given him away.

“Sex,” he says, much louder than intended or reasonable. They both wince.

“Oh, have you never…?” Aziraphale asks with polite disbelief.

“You have?” Crowley demands.

Look, when you're largely inexperienced sex-favorable asexual ineffables, it takes a bit of practice, a lot of communication, and some bull-headed persistence to get your sex life in commendable working order. Or, five times things got (hilariously) awkward during sex, and one time after they've got it mostly figured out. A companion fic to "Scratching That Itch." (Sex acts, such as they are, tagged per chapter in chapter notes!)